<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Interlude by RiotFalling, WhiteIronWolf (adoctoraday)</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27369163">Interlude</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiotFalling/pseuds/RiotFalling'>RiotFalling</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/adoctoraday/pseuds/WhiteIronWolf'>WhiteIronWolf (adoctoraday)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bound To You [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1930s, 1980s, Coming Out, Dom/Sub discussions, Family Dynamics, Gen, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Period-Typical Homophobia, Rebecca barnes is a good sister, Slurs, ana jarvis is a good mother, discussions of consent, dom command, dom/sub dynamics, howard stark is his own trigger warning, winnifred barnes is a good mother</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:02:48</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>7,419</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27369163</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiotFalling/pseuds/RiotFalling, https://archiveofourown.org/users/adoctoraday/pseuds/WhiteIronWolf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many types of “coming out”, some joyful, some unexpected, some tragic. This is the story of two such events.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ana Jarvis &amp; Tony Stark, George Barnes &amp; James "Bucky" Barnes, Howard Stark &amp; Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Rebecca Barnes Proctor, James "Bucky" Barnes &amp; Steve Rogers, winnifred barnes &amp; james "bucky" barnes</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Bound To You [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1806055</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>82</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>249</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is written by WhiteIronWolf</p><p> <a href="https://therollingstonys.tumblr.com/">You can find me @TheRollingStonys on tumblr! Just ask for Mod Stella!</a></p><p> </p><p>  <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/chat/0_JOa_w6Jki6xyaWadq4Ww/bound-to-you">Join us in our tumblr group chat and get sneak peeks of new chapters, discuss meta and headcanons, and participate in easter egg hunts for spoilers!</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Wake <em>up, </em>James Buchanan or I <em>will</em> empty this kettle of water on your head and it <em>isn’t </em>cold.”</p><p>James groans into his pillow, trying to hold out as long as he can under the warmth of the blanket. “<em>Ma</em>,” he whines in protest, but the creak of the floorboards heralds his mother’s return and he <em>knows </em>she doesn’t mess around after a first warning, so he hastily throws back the blankets and flails out of bed. </p><p>The sheets tangle around his feet and he wobbles for a moment before falling in an ungraceful heap at his mother’s feet. She smirks at him, hands on her hips and shakes her head. “Clumsier than a puppy chasing his tail,” she murmurs fondly. “Get yourself clean and to the table or you’re going to miss breakfast,” she orders, walking back out sedately. </p><p>He hurries to use the bathroom, washes his face off and tidies his hair before changing into his good Shabbat suit, the smell of his mother’s spiced apple babka wafting through the air and enticing him to hurry. By the time he makes it to the table Becca is already on her second slice and his father is giving him a flat look over the edge of the paper. </p><p>Rachael and Leah each have a slice as well and when Bucky cuts himself two they protest loudly till their mother swats each of them on the back of the head. “None of that before temple,” she orders, taking the remains of the loaf and slicing it for herself and their father, the thin slather of butter on it all they can afford. </p><p>They aren’t as poor as some others are, but they certainly aren’t high society folk either, and with times being tough as they are, he knows he should be grateful they have as much as they do.</p><p>Still. </p><p>He would have liked another slice of the babka. </p><p>He licks his fingers clean and earns a tsk of disapproval from his mother and a glare from his father, so he offers to wash the dishes to make up for it. He hurries to clean the dishes while his sisters and parents gather their coats and by the time he’s done, they’re waiting for him by the door. </p><p>They’re going to be late for temple, and he knows it’s his fault for lingering in bed, but his mother doesn’t scold—they aren’t exactly the most devout members of the faith. Sure, they go to temple and do Seder, but he’s not circumcised and even though he’d turned 13 a few weeks ago, they hadn’t had a fancy bar mitzvah. His mother had made his favorite latkes and his father had given him the compass he’d used in the Great War with an admonishment to always do right by his fellow man. </p><p>The cold wet air of spring slaps him in the face when he hurries out after his family, still pulling his coat on as he clatters down the stairs of their tiny home. He shivers and skips to catch up, yelping when he skids on icy dirt, and very nearly trips and falls. Becca laughs at him but falls back and takes his arm, her grip tight and steadying. </p><p>He loves her dearly for it and kisses her temple, the pair of them trailing along behind the rest of the family to talk quietly. Becca is his twin, and they share most everything—their pains and sorrows as well as their joys and loves. </p><p>He knows of her desire to go to college and become a doctor, just as she knows his desire to go and become an engineer like the famous Howard Stark—however unlikely it may be for either of them that these closely held dreams might come true. </p><p>They sit quietly together during temple, Bucky’s mind far away, pondering over how to fix Leah’s broken toy. The arm has gotten stuck backwards and refuses to rotate properly and he’s pretty sure that he can fix it if he can take it apart and look at the inner workings. He has a small set of tools he’s bought over the years with coin he’s earned doing errands for those in the neighborhood, and though they’re second hand and well worn, they work just fine. </p><p>His sisters chatter and skip around them on the way home and Bucky smiles fondly at the noise, even as he yearns to get away and find some solitude for himself. He spies a few boys he knows from school and hurriedly gains permission from his parents to play with an admonishment to be home for supper from his mother. </p><p>He hands off his tie and jacket with a wink to Becca and rolls up his sleeves as he jogs to join the trio of boys playing jacks. They have pennies to bet on who can pick up the most between bounces, but his own pockets are empty so he chooses to watch instead. </p><p>When the boys grow tired of jacks they wander the streets searching out fun (trouble) until they find it with another group of boys from Little Italy. They quickly split into teams to play stickball, laughing and shouting and growing dirtier by the hour. </p><p>Bucky feels free here with them, with dirt on his face and the wind in his hair, free in a way he’s not anywhere else. He joins the clamor of boys at the crowded table for lunch, inhaling the plate full of pasta and fresh sauce, groaning in delight when it’s refilled quickly. </p><p>Eventually the sky darkens and Bucky bids his friends a hasty goodbye before turning towards home, shivering a little in the cool spring air now that he’s not running around and playing. The sweat on his skin sticks unpleasantly and he knows he’ll catch hell from his mother when he gets home for sweating and playing so rough in his suit shirt. </p><p>He keeps a close eye out as he walks home, avoiding the streets where vagrants linger, their eyes hollow and hungry and he’s reminded again of just how bad things are in his city. He takes a shortcut when he sees the police up ahead, hassling a boy not much older than him, sneering at their backs as he turns into the alley. </p><p>A high yelp sounds from further down the street and he slows, listening for a moment before he hears it again and then the laughter of a group of boys and the first fiery licks of anger ignite within him. He hurries down the street, looking for the source of the sound till he stumbles on the opening of an alleyway and finally sees what’s going on. </p><p>A trio of boys who look to be about 15 are circled around a smaller boy, taunting and teasing and laughing. One of them grabs his face and hauls him up off his knees and James can see the kid is <em>small</em>, can’t be more than eight or nine, and already his face is bloody and bruised. </p><p>Defiance shines out of bright blue eyes and James watches in amazement as the kid’s foot flies, connecting with the older boy’s balls. The smaller boy is quickly assaulted by the other two and well, James doesn’t need to see anymore. </p><p>“Hey! Leave him alone!” he shouts, storming forward to glare at the boys. They turn, one of them still holding the other boy up by the scruff of his neck as he struggles and curses. </p><p>“What’s it to ya?” the boy with reddish gold hair and bright green eyes demands as he steps forward, hands balled at his sides. </p><p>“He’s just a kid! Let him go!” James demands again, anger and pressure building up in his chest with each moment they don’t listen. </p><p>The boys laugh and the redhead grins nastily, “We’re just teaching this stupid little fairy his place. He needs to know how ta suck cock and stay on his knees where he belongs,” the boy says with a lewd grin. </p><p>Rage builds inside him, bubbling and seething and he doesn’t notice his hands are fists till the boy points and laughs, “What, you wanna fight us for ‘im?” he taunts, “you want this little sub to break in for yourself?” </p><p>Disgust swoops through James’s stomach and he grits his teeth, glaring at the boy as his pulse pounds in his ears. “Let. Him. <em>Go,</em>” he demands, the words rumbling out of his throat like the snarl of a lion. </p><p>The older boy shudders and pales, eyes going wide as he takes a hesitant step back. </p><p>“Hey c’mon Bobby, you gonna shut him up or what?” the other boy calls, sneering at James, “He ain’t so tough.”</p><p>Bobby swallows hard and nods, seemingly steeling himself before stepping back toward James, fists rising. James bares his teeth and lifts his own fists—if this idiot wants to take him on, he’s not gonna object. He doesn’t wait for the older boy to strike first, instead, he feints with a right and then slams his left into Bobby’s gut so hard the boy lurches away and vomits. </p><p>The other boys release the kid and stalk toward him, perhaps thinking they’ll have better luck two on one. He lifts his fists and protects his face, circling to put himself between them and the boy they’d been abusing. He snarls, rage filling him like water rushing against a dam and when one boy comes forward to engage with him he slams a left hook into his jaw with a shout. </p><p>The trio of boys eyes him warily, all of them injured by James and the kid, and he takes a lunging step forward and then shouts “GET OUT OF HERE YOU FUCKIN PUNKS!” </p><p>The way they stumble back, faces pale, pleases some part of him deep down, and he waits till they’re gone to turn around and inspect the kid on the ground. He steps forward cautiously, hands extended in a show of peace, “Hey kid, it’s okay, you’re safe,” he murmurs in as soothing a voice as he can manage. </p><p>Dirty blond hair falls over his brow as he snaps his chin up to glare at James. “I had em on the ropes,” he declares, blood in between his teeth as he snarls at James. </p><p>Surprise and something like affection fills him at this unexpected response and he can’t help laughing softly, “You sure did buddy,” he agrees, “we made quite a team,” he murmurs, offering a hand to help the boy up. </p><p>The younger boy studies it for a moment and then takes it and lets James pull him to his feet, wincing and clutching at his ribs. “Hey you okay pal?” he asks, stepping forward in concern. </p><p>Blue eyes blaze at him as the kid glares again. “I’m <em>fine, </em>I ain’t no fairy, no matter what they say,” he snaps, “I ain’t <em>weak.” </em></p><p>James shifts uncomfortably, “I didn’t say you were pal, just asked if you were okay.” He shrugs and looks away from the kid, wondering if he should just leave since clearly, this kid wants nothing to do with him. </p><p>A soft sigh reaches his ear and he jolts slightly when the back of the kids hand slaps against his arm genially. He looks back to find him smiling faintly, an abashed look on his face. “Steve Rogers,” he murmurs, smiling wider when James takes it and squeezes, “James Barnes,” he says, a smile on his lips. </p><p>“Nice to meet ya James,” Steve says and then coughs, grimacing as he coughs again and again, his thin frame rattling with the force of it. James doesn’t know what to do in the face of such frailty, so he keeps his hands to himself and watches in concern as his new friend struggles through it for a few minutes before his breathing settles. </p><p>It’s still raspy and wheezy, but steadier, so that must be good. He lays a gentle hand on Steve’s shoulder, “You okay?” he asks softly, smiling when Steve nods and gives him a wry, tired smile. </p><p>“Asthma,” he admits, “plus a couple good punches to the gut.” </p><p>James nods and then grins, “Still, you gave ‘em hell,” he says with a laugh, “they know better than to mess with you now.”</p><p>Steve gives him an odd look and nods slowly, “Sure, but I think it had more to do with you commanding them to leave,” he says, peering up at James curiously. </p><p>James frowns, “I don’t know about that,” he says, confusion in his voice. “Think they figured we were too much of a problem to keep messin with us,” he says with a shrug. He glances down the alley and suddenly realizes how dark it is and just how annoyed his mother is going to be with him for being late. </p><p>“Shit, I gotta go, my mom’s gonna tan my hide,” he says with a wince and a tight laugh. </p><p>Steve grins and nods, “Mine too,” he agrees and by mutual understanding they start walking towards the street, pausing when they start to go separate ways, some unspoken bond between them not letting them part quite yet. </p><p>Steve brushes his hair off his brow, “I’m this way,” he says with a jerk of his thumb over his shoulder, “I guess I’ll see you around pal,” he says hopefully. </p><p>James grins, “I’ll keep an eye out for ya,” he says, “Try not to get into trouble till then,” he teases, laughing when Steve rolls his eyes and grins through a bloody split lip at him. </p><p>“It’s not like I go lookin for it, it just finds me!” he protests, and James just laughs harder because <em>clearly</em>, nothing is further from the truth. </p><p>“Sure pal,” he agrees solemnly, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips, “whatever you say.” He hesitates for a second and then reaches out to clasp Steve’s shoulder, “I like you Steve Rogers, so try not to get into any trouble without me,” he murmurs, smiling softly at the younger man. </p><p>Steve rolls his eyes and punches James’s shoulder lightly, “Get outta here punk, your ma is gonna make it so you can’t sit for a week,” he says with a laugh. “I’ll see you around.”</p><p>James nods and pats his shoulder, grinning as he waves goodbye, “See you around Stevie!” he calls over his shoulder as he starts to jog away. </p><p>“Fuck you Barnes! It’s <em>Steve!”</em> </p><p>He laughs the whole way down the block. </p><hr/><p>His mother purses her lips when he bursts in the door, too late for dinner, dirty and with bruised knuckles. She frowns as he explains what had happened and why he was late, and to his surprise she doesn’t scold him. Instead she washes his hands gently and then kisses the knuckles, eyes shining oddly as she leans in and kisses his brow. </p><p>“I’m proud of you my darling,” she murmurs in Hebrew, surprising him yet again with a tight hug. He’s ushered to the bathroom to bathe and when he comes out he finds a plate of dinner waiting for him, and his parents talking softly, looks of concern in their faces. </p><p>Maybe he will get in trouble. </p><p>He sits down and eats, but no scolding comes, instead, his father studies him and nods slowly, reaching up to pat gently at the hand his mother has on his shoulder. When he’s finished he’s sent off to bed with more kisses and hugs and he’s a little confused as to <em>why </em>he’s not being scolded for being late and having blood on his shirt, but he’s certainly not going to object. </p><p>He slips into bed beside Becca, something his mom says they’re too old for, but he’s feeling out of sorts and confused and right now, he needs the person who knows him best. Becca rolls onto her side and studies his face for a moment before giving him a significant look. </p><p>“Tell me what happened,” she murmurs, and he does. </p><p>He tells her about the fight and they way he’d felt, all the anger at being disobeyed knotting up in his chest till it had come bursting loose and the way the boys had run, had seemed scared. </p><p>“It doesn’t make any sense Becs,” he murmurs, “I’m just one guy against three of them and I got a few licks in, but nothing that shoulda scared them off like that,” he whispers, reaching for her hand and squeezing it, unsure if he’s comforting her or himself with the action. </p><p>She smiles softly and flicks his nose, grinning at his huff of protest. “You’re a dom, silly,” she murmurs as he rubs his nose where she’d flicked it. He freezes and then shakes his head slowly, that can’t be right, he’s...well he doesn’t know, but he’s sure he’s not <em>that. </em></p><p>Becca must see it on his face because she smiles softly, fondly and squeezes his hand. “Bucky, you like taking care of me and Leah and Rachael, right?” she asks gently, smiling when he nods. “And you like fixing things for us and makin sure we’ve got enough to eat even if it means you go without sometimes huh?” </p><p>He nods again, a warm sensation building slowly in his chest as Becca continues. </p><p>“You’re kind and loving and sweet Bucky, you want to take care of the whole damn world,” she murmurs, cupping his cheek gently. “Just don’t forget to take care of <em>you,” </em>she whispers, eyes intent in the shadowy gloom of their small bedroom. </p><p>He pretends like his throat isn’t thick with emotion and nods, burrowing in close to his sister to take a little of the comfort she offers, her fingers rubbing gently at his scalp till he falls asleep. </p><hr/><p>The next day his mother wakes him early, before the sun is even up and quietly maneuvers him out of his pajamas and into regular clothes and then out the door before he really knows what’s happening. She guides him through the streets as vendors roll out their carts and shop fronts open, the streets busy, even this early.</p><p>It’s not till they arrive at the small local park that she speaks. “Come along James,” she murmurs, leading him through the frostbitten grass to the edge of the small frosted pond. She waves a hand at the park bench and he hurries to sit down. “Momma what—” </p><p>He trails off as she turns to face him, a contemplative but serious look on her face and he wonders if she’s going to finally let him have it for getting in a scrap and getting himself bruised and bloodied. </p><p>She stares another moment and then smiles, face softening with affection as she reaches out to cup his cheek. </p><p>“You always think you’ll have more time,” she murmurs, thumb caressing his cheekbone. “It feels like yesterday you were taking your first steps and now here you are, figuring out you’re a dom,” she murmurs and his heart trips in his chest, his sharp inhale loud enough to catch her ear. </p><p>“Hush now my love,” she whispers, leaning in a bit more, a knowing smile on her face. “You’re going to be a wonderful dom, and a good, decent man.”</p><p>“How do you know?” he whispers back, his deepest fears laid bare by the question. </p><p>She smiles again and pats his cheek gently, “Because I’ll teach you,” she says, “and if you listen, you’ll learn.” </p><p>He nods eagerly and she smiles, pride in her eyes like he’s never seen before. </p><p>“Right. The first you need to know is that the relationship between a dom and a sub, whether it’s a sub or a switch acting as a sub, is that it’s all about trust.” </p><p>He nods, that makes sense. </p><p>“You need to communicate clearly before you ever do anything with someone what your needs are, what your limits are, and what those things are for your partner.”</p><p>He frowns, “What if I don’t know my limits?” he asks, cheeks heating with embarrassment at the delicate topic. With three sisters he’s not unaware of what sex is—his mother and father had explained it to he and Becca already a few years ago, but <em>this</em> topic is a new one.</p><p>His mother smiles, “That my love, is all part of this. When we get home I’ll give you a book on some of the things that doms and subs can do together and you can learn a little more, see what appeals to you.”</p><p>James nods slowly and his mother pats his knee gently, smiling knowingly. “Some things only get figured out with time and experience,” she tells him. “Some people enjoy being hit while others detest it. Some want to be tied up and others don’t have a preference. What’s important is that you discuss what you’d like to do with your partner before it ever happens and establish rules and signals so that you both can be very clear about how you’re feeling when you’re together.”</p><p>James frowns at his mother, picking at a loose thread on his shirt till she flicks his hand gently and smirks. “Ah! Signals?” he asks, releasing the thread so she doesn’t flick him again. </p><p>“Some people have colors, like a traffic light, and others use numbers to figure out where someone is on their scale of tolerance,” she explains, “but they always need to combine those things with a word that will end whatever is happening immediately.”</p><p>He nods again, thoughtfully, “A word to keep them safe,” he murmurs, grinning when his mother smiles proudly. </p><p>“Exactly my dear,” she agrees. “It’s important that both parties know what the word is and feel free and able to use it should they need to.” </p><p>James nods, that makes sense. </p><p>“Now, we’ll talk more as you get older and I want you to come to me with any questions you have,” she says seriously, encouraging a nod out of him. “But what you should know is that the act of submission is a <em>gift,” </em>she says emphatically, eyes piercing him. “It is not to be taken lightly or treated poorly. The person submitting to you is offering their trust in you and if you break that trust James, it is a very hard thing to regain.” </p><p>Her eyes are steely and grey like a storm, just like his when he’s angry or upset and he swallows hard around a knot of fear. There aren’t many things in this world that scare him, but by God, <em>she </em>does. “Yes ma’am,” he whispers, nodding weakly. </p><p>She stares at him for another moment and then softens, smiling. “Subs are to be treasured and adored, you understand?” she asks, waiting for his nod before she continues. “Very good. Now, one last thing for today,” she murmurs. “There is a thing called Command, and it can be used to order a sub to do whatever it is you like.” </p><p>He frowns, that sounds dangerous, and he says so. His mother beams at him, reaching out to run her fingers through his hair as she nods. “My smart boy. Yes, there are some doms who abuse this privilege and power and use it to hurt or manipulate subs and switches because what they want more than anything is power for the sake of power. Those are people to be avoided.” </p><p>She pauses and fixes him with a narrow eyed look, “And if I ever hear of you using your command to coerce or harm another person, I will tan your hide raw, I don’t care <em>how </em>old you are,” she says warningly. </p><p>James nods hurriedly, “I wouldn’t momma, I promise,” he says earnestly, heart in his throat as she studies him for a long silent moment. When she nods approvingly his chest lightens and he heaves a sigh of relief. </p><p>She smiles at him and pats his knee, “Right, well, do you have any questions?” she asks, smiling when he shakes his head. It’s spinning with everything she’s told him, and when she encourages him to his feet he goes without protest, following her home. </p><p>She stops outside the door to their home and turns back to fix him with a firm look. “Whoever you wind up with will be very lucky James, and you should know that no matter who it is, sub, switch, neutral, another dom…” she smiles a little sadly, “woman or man, they’ll always be welcome in our home.”</p><p>He’s left standing there, stunned by her words, world knocked askew by the very idea that he can have whoever he wants and still have the love of his family. </p><p>His mother calls to him to shut the door so he hurries inside, pausing when he sees his mother and father standing close together, her hand on the nape of his father’s neck, speaking softly as he’s often seen them do. His father nods and smiles, leaning into her touch when she cups his cheek with her other hand and it strikes him suddenly—she’s a dom. </p><p>Just like him. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Saw this on Tumblr and I think it's a lovely idea--feel free to copy and paste into your own fics!!<br/>Emoji Key for those who don't know what to say in the comments!<br/>❤ = you wish you could kudos again<br/>😭 = I got you right in the feels<br/>🔥 = this was so hot!<br/>🐰 = it’s so fluffy!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>This chapter is written by RiotFalling</p><p> <a href="https://riotwritesthings.tumblr.com/">You can find me @riotwritesthings on Tumblr!</a></p><p>  <a href="https://www.tumblr.com/chat/0_JOa_w6Jki6xyaWadq4Ww/bound-to-you">Join us in our tumblr group chat and get sneak peeks of new chapters, discuss meta and headcanons, and participate in easter egg hunts for spoilers!</a></p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ana is the one who finds him, because she always is, ever since he was a child. It doesn’t matter where Tony tries to hide in the sprawling manor, no matter what weird place he shoves himself into, Ana has always been able to find him when no one else can.</p><p>This time, Tony is curled up on the ground in one of the lesser-used linen closets, even though he definitely doesn’t fit anymore and his head knocks against the shelf above him everytime he sniffles pitifully.</p><p>He’s in the middle of mentally beating himself up for ever thinking coming home for the holiday break was a <em>good </em>idea when the door cracks open and leaves Tony blinking against the bright sliver of light that falls across him.</p><p>Tony curls in on himself tighter, grateful for the washcloth pressed to his sluggishly bleeding lip because hopefully it at least keeps his hard flinch from showing on his face.</p><p>He’s supposed to be <em>strong, </em>he’s almost a man now, he’s <em>definitely</em> not supposed to be hiding in closets and trying not to cry.</p><p>“Oh, tiny star,” Ana sighs softly and Tony relaxes slightly at the sound of her voice, only to go tense again when she sinks slowly to her knees in the doorway. “Let me see,” She says, reaching out to gently pull his hand away from his mouth, and her eyes narrow slightly at the sight of his busted lip.</p><p>“It’s fine,” Tony tries to insist, but his voice wavers and she just tuts at him, ushers him up off the ground and herds him to the small kitchen in the Jarvis' quarters.</p><p>Tony pulls himself up onto the counter by the sink while she wraps ice in a soft washcloth, and they both pretend this <em>isn’t </em>a well established routine at this point.</p><p>“What happened?” She asks as he holds the ice out to him. Judging by the tight clench of her jaw she already knows the answer though, so Tony just gives her a crooked smile with the side of his mouth that's <em>isn’t</em> swollen and bruised as he presses the cold washcloth to the other side.</p><p>Ana's lips go thin in the way Tony has learned means she's working <em>really hard </em>not to say something she'll regret, and Tony's heart swells a little as she spins and starts loudly digging out a mixing bowl.</p><p>Tony just watches quietly as she moves around the kitchen, grabbing flour and sugar and eggs. The ice does it's job of slowly numbing the throbbing pain in Tony's lip while Ana mixes things together, maybe a <em>smidge</em> more vigorously than is necessary, and when she looks up at Tony again her smile is warm.</p><p>"I've barely seen you since your break started," she says, and then gently swats at Tony's hand when he tries to reach over and swipe some batter off the edge of the bowl. "Stop it," she chides with a stern frown and amusement in her eyes, “It’s just butter and sugar right now, have some patience.”</p><p>“What’s that?” Tony quips, and then grins as much as he can without hurting his lip when she fixes him with a flat look.</p><p>“Hand me the flour,” she instructs with a fond roll of her eyes, and once Tony passes over the jar she smiles at him and says, “I heard you’re making top marks again this year.”</p><p>“Of course,” Tony says with a listless shrug, because <em>of course </em>he is, he’s Howard Sark’s son, anything else would be <em>unacceptable.</em></p><p>“Because you work so hard,” Ana says firmly, and when he shrugs again she tsks and insists, “You <em>do, </em>you’re just so far ahead that no one sees it.”</p><p>Tony manages a weak smile at that because it <em>is </em>true, MIT isn’t that different than all the top-notch boarding schools, and he still blows through his class work in basically no time. Most of his attention goes to his own projects, or working on things for Howard, and it’s just... <em>nice, </em>to have <em>someone </em>who sees that he’s <em>trying.</em></p><p>“So what have you been up to so far?” Ana asks, and when Tony glances up from watching her slowly stir in flour her smile widens a little and she adds, “Other than staying locked up in your room of course.”</p><p>“Mostly just that,” Tony says with a soft huff of laughter, and then drops his eyes again as he chews on his lip. He knows the question she’s slowly angling towards, and he figures he might as well speed it up a bit. “Um, one of my friends from school lives in New York too, and he came to hang out,” he says haltingly, face flushing with embarrassment and shame, but when he glances up again Ana is smiling at him encouragingly.</p><p>“That sounds nice,” she says, and the hopeful note in her voice nearly breaks Tony's heart.</p><p>He <em>knows</em> it's not exactly normal, and probably kind of sad, that the only people he's really close with are the Jarvis', but it's not like he hasn't <em>tried.</em> He's had varying levels of success over the years, but Tony just... isn't very good at making friends. </p><p>Tony has always been too smart, too snarky, younger than everyone else in his grade by a couple years, but he <em>tries.</em> And hell, the Jarvis’ are some of the best people Tony has ever met, he couldn’t really complain if they turn out to be the <em>only</em> friends he ever has.</p><p>“It was," Tony says, nodding and smiling instead of admitting that Ty is kind of pushy, that he's a bit of an entitled asshole. Because he also laughs at Tony's dumb space jokes and stands up for him at school, and sometimes Tony thinks maybe he's finally made a friend who actually likes him for <em>him.</em></p><p>He can tell Ana is waiting for the rest of the story though, and Tony slowly lets the ice fall away from his lip as the nerves and guilt and embarrassment all come rushing back.</p><p>He twists the edges of the washcloth between his fingers until his knuckles go white, and when Ana gently places her hand over his to stop him Tony finds himself blurting, "Howard caught me kissing him."</p><p><em>'Kissing' </em>is kind of an understatement. They had been well on their way to heavy making out, Tony’s wrists pinned to the wall on either side of him and melting into the solid warmth of Ty pressed all up against his front, right up until the outraged shout that had them springing apart.</p><p>Despite his best efforts Tony feels his shoulders crawling up around his ears, shame and dread curling cold in his chest at the memory of the pathetic whine that had slipped out of him when Ty first stepped away. The way that Tony's head had been such a fuzzy mess of desire all he had been able to do was sway in place and blink stupidly until Howard had turned on him with a furious expression. </p><p>Tony is hunched in on himself defensively even though he <em>knows</em> better, he <em>knows</em> it's an unacceptable show of weakness. He's waiting for Ana to say something, maybe yank her hand away, trying to brace himself for the inevitable and <em>oh god</em> he shouldn't have said anything—</p><p>“Your father has a small mind,” Ana says firmly, and when Tony jerks his gaze up again she gives an exaggerated wince and holds one flour-covered finger in front of her lips. Tony huffs out a weak laugh, because she <em>knows </em>Tony has never repeated any of the <em>‘unprofessional’ </em>and usually unfavorable things Ana has to say about Howard. “He does though,” she says with an unapologetic shrug as she turns back to her mixing bowl and starts dumping in chocolate chips, “Always so set in his ways, so resistant to change unless <em>he’s </em>the one creating it. Can’t see what a wonderful, clever and hardworking son he has.”</p><p>She continues grumbling under her breath as she finishes up the cookie dough, alternating between thinly veiled insults directed at Howard and compliments for Tony, and by the time she’s scooping it out onto a baking sheet Tony feels lighter, his chest warm and full. </p><p>He’s known Howard is an asshole for quite a few years now, but at least he has Ana and Jarvis and his mom, in her more lucid moments. That’s more than enough.</p><p>Ana is still handing the spoon to him to lick clean, her smile warm and fond, and at least Tony hasn’t disappointed <em>everyone. </em></p><p>“Where’s your mother?” Ana asks as she slides the cookie sheet in the oven, and when she turns to him with an expectant look Tony quickly hops off the counter and starts gathering up the dishes to wash them.</p><p>“She’s in the library,” Tony says, which is basically code for <em>‘taking a Xanax nap in the only room Howard never goes in.’ </em></p><p>It’s where she’s been most of his break so far, and while he’d been looking forward to seeing her he also can’t exactly blame her. Hell, sometimes Tony thinks he’d like to spend all his time in this house in a drugged up haze too, but he’s supposed to be <em>using </em>his brain. Unlike his poor mother he’s <em>not</em> just a toy or an accessory, mostly forgotten about except when it’s time to dress herself up for public appearances.</p><p>(Tony does his best to ignore that sometimes he feels <em>exactly the same way, </em>dragged to charity and SI events in his best suit just so he can listen to people tell him that they expect <em>big things </em>from him, that Howard must be <em>so proud. </em>It’s not the same. It’s <em>not.)</em></p><p>“Well, maybe you can bring her some cookies later,” Ana says, and then winks as she adds, “If you don’t eat them all by then, of course.”</p><p>“I think you know the odds of that,” Tony says with a small grin, and then laughs when Ana pretends to gently swat at him with a dish towel.</p><p>“So what happened to your friend?” she asks as Tony hands her the mixing bowl to dry.</p><p>“Pretty sure he ran out as soon as Howard started yelling,” Tony says with a shrug, because it’s not like he really blames the guy. Who <em>would </em>want to get in the middle of that? “Hopefully he was able to call a car or something.”</p><p>Ana’s lips thin again, but she doesn’t say anything else as they finish cleaning up the kitchen and wait for the cookies to bake. She loads him up with an entire platter full of perfectly gooey chocolate chip cookies, and then pulls him into a hug tight enough that he nearly fumbles the tray.</p><p>“Don’t you listen to a thing that man says,” Ana whispers into his hair, squeezing him a little harder, “You’re perfect just the way you are, tiny star, and if you try you can always find people who see it too.”</p><p>Tony has made a point of trying to object to the <em>‘tiny star’ </em>nickname recently, because he’s <em>not tiny, </em>not anymore at least. Right now though, Tony is just trying not to drop the platter of cookies in favor of wrapping his arms around her in return and for a second he can’t even <em>breathe</em> around the warm lump in his chest. </p><p>He still doesn’t know about finding anyone who thinks he’s <em>perfect, </em>but at least he has Ana and Jarvis, and that’s definitely not nothing. It’s <em>plenty.</em></p><p>“Thank you Ana,” Tony manages in a quiet, rough voice, clutching the plate closer to his chest as he tries to blink away the tears gathering in his eyes.</p><p>“Now get out of here,” Ana says as she lets him go, giving him a gentle shove towards the door as she subtly dabs at her own eyes with the other hand. “Go eat all your sugar and ruin your dinner.”</p><p>“Oh I will,” Tony says, shooting her a wavering smile as he begins shuffling towards the door. </p><p>He locks himself away in his room again and carefully sets aside a couple cookies to give to his mom later. Then he slowly works his way through devouring the rest of them himself, sitting at his desk and losing himself in code again.</p><p>The cookies are warm and perfect, this wonky code is at least a problem that he knows he can solve, and it's about the happiest Tony ever feels. It's more than enough.</p>
<hr/><p>He gets a talking-to from Howard that night.</p><p>Although <em>‘talking-to’ </em>might be a bit generous, when in actuality it quickly dissolves into drunken ranting. Most of it Tony has already had drilled into his head for his entire life anyways, that he needs to be <em>strong, </em>needs to uphold the Stark name and line and how there’s no room for <em>weakness </em>in the company Howard worked so hard to build.</p><p>The colorful slurs are new, but the disdain in his voice is all too familiar as it cuts Tony straight down to the core. But even that isn’t as bad as the fact that Howard won’t even <em>look </em>at him for most of his rant, instead paces the room and waves his arms until dark liquor is sloshing over the rim of his tumbler. </p><p>Tony just tries not to flinch everytime Howard’s pacing brings him within arm’s reach and bites his tongue so he won’t insist that he’s <em>not </em>weak, or <em>soft, </em>because he kind of <em>is, </em>isn’t he? </p><p>Shame churns hot in his gut until he feels sick with it, remembering the way he’d melted <em>so easily, </em>the way he’d gone nearly stupid with want and the way his stomach had twisted as he’d been pinned in against the wall.</p><p>The way he’s always been so <em>stupidly desperate </em>for any form of approval, the soul crushing feeling when he <em>always </em>falls short of Howard’s expectations.</p><p>In the end Tony manages to escape with just the busted lip that he was already sporting, shamefully scurrying out of the room with his head down before Howard can change his mind about dismissing him without another smack to really drive the message home.</p><p>Tony also has a cold pit in his stomach, slowly spreading up into his chest until it feels like it could strangle his heart, but that’s pretty par for the course after any interaction with his father.</p><p>Because he’s a <em>disappointment, </em>he’ll never be good enough, and Tony is just trying to swallow down the worry that Howard’s worst fear will come true. That he’ll end up with some <em>faggot submissive </em>for a son.</p><p>It’s not that Tony doesn’t <em>want </em>to live up to expectations and follow Howard’s stupid plan, it’s just that he can’t seem to figure out how to quit <em>fucking everything up.</em></p>
<hr/><p>Ana finds him again, because of course she does. </p><p>It’s early into the morning at this point and Tony is still hiding away in one of the unused and sparsely decorated guest rooms. It’s a place he likes to come sometimes and stare around at the simple decor, try to imagine what it would be like to be somebody, <em>anybody </em>else. If it would be easier, or if he would find a way to screw that up too.</p><p>His head jerks up when Ana slowly pushes the door open, and Tony frantically swipes his palms over his wet cheeks, trying to hide the evidence of his <em>weakness. </em></p><p>Ana just smiles at him, small and gentle and <em>sad, </em>and pushes the door closed behind her with one foot. Her arms are full of what looks like a giant quilt, folded into a bulky square, and she smiles a little wider when Tony’s curiosity no doubt shows on his face.</p><p>“I have a gift for you,” she says as she shakes out the quilt a bit, letting Tony get a good look at it, and his breath catches in his chest.</p><p>It’s made up of inconsistent squares of color, but Tony recognizes each and every bit of fabric.</p><p>That’s a piece of his mother’s favorite blouse, the one that was stained with sauce the last time they cooked together. That’s a piece of the plaid pajamas Jarvis used to wear, the ones Tony remembers distinctly from when he was very small and unable to sleep and Jarvis would make him hot chocolate in the middle of the night. A piece of his own childhood pajamas, and his first blanket, and Ana’s favorite apron, every square a happy memory.</p><p>“I’ve been working on this for you for awhile,” Ana says softly while Tony is still gaping stupidly, throat tight and eyes hot, “And I thought this might be a good time to give it to you. You’re almost grown now, after all, I thought you might want something to hold onto.”</p><p>He just stares in shock for a second and all Tony wants to do is wrap himself in the blanket, breathe it in, but he still has Howard’s voice ringing in his ears, telling him not to be <em>weak.</em></p><p>Ana’s eyes go a little sadder, but all she does is give the quilt a little shake, like she’s trying to entice him, as she says, “At least try it, tiny star, it’s very soft.”</p><p>“Wh-why,” Tony tries to stutter out before his words die in his throat, one hand already reaching for the quilt before he quickly snatches it back again and wraps his arms tightly around himself instead.</p><p>She already knows, <em>of course</em> she does. Part of Tony wants to ask how long she’s known, if <em>everyone </em>can tell that he’s <em>weak, </em>but the rest of him doesn’t want to know. He just wants to pretend this isn’t happening, like if he ignores it hard enough maybe he can <em>stop it.</em></p><p>“I don’t need soft things,” Tony tries to argue, but his voice shakes a little and while Ana’s smile doesn’t drop, Tony doesn’t miss the way the corner of her lips twitch down for a split second.</p><p>“Maybe you don’t,” She agrees easily, and Tony clings to it even though he’s <em>very sure</em> she’s just humoring him, “But I think you deserve them anyways, hmm?”</p><p>And without waiting for an answer she drapes the blanket around his shoulders, wraps it tight so it overlaps just below his chin, just like she did when he was small or sick.</p><p>Tony ducks his chin down so hopefully she won’t see the way his eyes have gone misty again, and after a second of hesitation he uncrosses his arms to pull the blanket in tighter around him. It’s thick and bulky enough that Tony can tell himself maybe it’s not visible when his shoulders start to shake with barely suppressed sobs.</p><p>Ana slowly sinks down to sit beside him on the foot of the bed and wraps one arm around him, then gently pulls him into a hug like she’s worried Tony might shatter apart if she moves too quickly.</p><p>He just sinks into her hold and lets out a choked sound, squeezing his eyes closed and swallowing down sobs until his chest aches with it.</p><p>Maybe he can’t stop it from happening, but maybe, if he just tries hard enough, he can make sure no one else figures it out. No one ever has to know he’s a sub, and then they won’t be disappointed in him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Saw this on Tumblr and I think it's a lovely idea--feel free to copy and paste into your own fics!!<br/>Emoji Key for those who don't know what to say in the comments!<br/>❤ = you wish you could kudos again<br/>😭 = I got you right in the feels<br/>🔥 = this was so hot!<br/>🐰 = it’s so fluffy!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>